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When he excused himself to his room for the evening, Wolfwood wasn’t expecting to have company. He and Vash often kept to themselves when they had rare moments like this–alone time is a hot commodity in their way of life. He assumed, perhaps naively, that Vash would enjoy his time in his own room and leave him to his own brooding.
So he’d settled in. Stripped down to his boxers and an undershirt and curled up in bed with the ashtray set on the blanket next to his chest. Like he was curling around the softly smoking embers–protecting a flame from the wind.
Instead, he ended up choking on sobs. He still hasn’t fully figured out why this happens. Perhaps there was no reason at all. Perhaps the simple joys of a comfortable bed after sleeping on the ground did it.
Perhaps things he could only think of in the dark quiet of solitude did it.
But he had assumed, perhaps foolishly, he would be alone to do this. Alone to cry until he fell asleep, doomed to wake up with a soggy pillow in the morning and pretend nothing had happened. Just as he usually did.
But then Vash went and knocked on the door.
“Hey Wolfwood?” he called through the thin door. “Yoohoo, Wolfwoooood? You wanna have a drink?”
Unfortunately, Wolfwood had been doing good to keep breathing by now. So actually responding was out of the question. The best he could do was to get up and stumble over to the door, one hand over his eyes like he could hide what was happening, and pull the door open.
If he was lucky, Vash could read the situation and would leave. Stutter about coming back later. It was awkward enough that he could probably escape with it never being talked about again.
The reaction he got, however, was not one he expected.
Vash, all smiles when he opened the door, immediately melted into a look of concern. His free hand, leaning against the doorframe, reached out and almost took Wolfwood’s teary cheek before he seemed to think better of it and grip his shoulder instead. Gentle. Tentative.
“Hey,” he whispered, voice impossibly softer. “Ya–y’okay?”
Stupid question. Wolfwood shook his head and hiccuped on a noise he couldn’t push down.
Vash paused a moment, visibly thinking about the next thing out of his mouth. He squeezed at Wolfwood’s shoulder.
“You need some company?”
The answer Wolfwood gave surprised even himself. A quick nod. A hand reached out to take Vash by the elbow and gently tug him into the room. A wash of relief when Vash pulled the door closed behind him and set the bottle of whiskey he’d brought on the side table by the door as Wolfwood pulled him further into the room.
“What do you need?” he asked, standing in the middle of the room when Wolfwood stopped moving.
He wasn’t sure. He didn’t even know where he’d been taking Vash when he finally stopped moving. Bed, maybe? He wasn’t in any shape to do the things they usually did in bed. But he missed the comfort.
Unable to figure out what he wanted or needed in the moment, Wolfwood simply made a miserable noise and squeezed gently at Vash’s elbow. Rubbed at his face with his other hand, smearing tears across his cheeks.
Like the divine blessing he was, Vash took things into his own hands.
“Can I touch you?” he asked.
Getting a nod in reply, he reached out and slowly wrapped an arm around his waist. Loose enough Wolfwood could pull away if he wanted. The other hand moved to his face, gently cupping his cheek and rubbing his thumb through the tear tracks there. Something further broke loose in Wolfwood’s chest then, summoning a pitiful choked off sound, and he leaned forward to bury his face against Vash’s shoulder. The hand on his cheek moved, gently holding the back of his head, massaging into his scalp.
“This okay?” Vash asked, voice barely a whisper.
Wolfwood managed to croke out the first word he had since he started crying. “Yeah…”
“Are you hurt?”
Wolfwood shrugged. He wasn’t entirely sure. Technically, not physically. But something ached in his chest like nothing he knew.
Vash didn’t seem to mind the vagueness. He pulled Wolfwood closer, both arms looping around his waist now. Swayed on his feet a little while Wolfwood tried to burrow his face into his shirt. He was dressed casually, almost like he did to sleep, so in lieu of the rough feel of the red coat against his face he was simply nuzzling at thin cotton and Vash’s skin beyond it.
“I'm sorry,” Vash murmured.
This, finally, was what got Wolfwood to speak more than one word. “Shut up,” he sniffled, pitiful. “Not your fault.” He doesn't want Vash apologizing because of his own guilt complex.
Vash gave a soft little tch noise, still swaying them.
“I mean I'm sorry this is happening, I know it's hard.”
Wolfwood swallowed thickly to choke down another sobbing noise. He wasn't sure what Vash meant but also… somehow it wouldn’t surprise him if he did understand better than even Wolfwood himself.
“Want to lay down?” Vash asked, resting his chin on Wolfwood's shoulder.
Wolfwood made a small affirmative noise and Vash slowly shifted, gently nudging him toward the bed. It was too small for both of them, Wolfwood knew, but Vash didn't seem deterred as he climbed into bed and gently pulled Wolfwood after him to rest against his chest. It was… nice. Vash kept him propped up slightly, preventing tears and snot from causing him further discomfort as Wolfwood's tears showed no signs of stopping yet.
They both fell quiet for a bit, just Wolfwood’s sniffles and Vash gently petting his hair. Then, quietly, Vash spoke again.
“You want some water?”
Wolfwood shook his head. Kept his cheek squished to Vash’s chest, eyes closed even as tears kept squeezing out between his lashes.
“Are you sure you’re not hurt?”
Wolfwood shrugged again. It was the best answer he had.
Careful, so careful, Vash moved his hands. Ran them along every part of Wolfwood he could touch. The feeling of just the warmth and gentleness of it was almost enough to lull him to sleep–might have if he wasn’t busy crying. When it became clear Vash couldn’t find any proper injuries, he clicked his tongue softly.
“I think you’ll live.”
Wolfwood made a pathetic little noise. “How d’you do it?”
In response, Vash gave a little confused noise. “Do what?”
“This,” Wolfwood rasped, rubbing at his face. “This stupid… crying shit.”
Vash cried. Perhaps more often for show than for catharsis. But he did, in fact, do both. Wolfwood had seen it. Seen the worst of it, in fact, and been unable to comfort him. Not that comfort could be found in some moments.
The laugh that came from Vash wasn’t unkind. It was dripping with kindness, in fact. Wolfwood felt him nuzzle his face into his hair.
“You get enough practice and it gets easier,” he replied.
Something about the idea of needing practice to cry shook Wolfwood up some. He whined in the back of his throat, arms squeezing Vash’s waist.
“Don’t wanna.”
“I can help you,” Vash offered gently.
He was already helping. Wolfwood knew he could keep this up all night if he had to. Vash was the scariest boogie man he knew, no one else could come and hurt him when he was vulnerable like this. Vash would never let them.
“How?”
Vash shifted and nudged him, making Wolfwood sit up. He made sure to complain audibly about this the whole way, especially when Vash’s shirt stuck to his face and simply made him want to stay where he was even more. Eventually, though, Wolfwood found himself with his face cradled in Vash’s hands, looking at him past the blur of tears.
“Hi,” Vash whispered.
“Hey,” Wolfwood rasped back, voice shaky.
Vash moved his thumbs, petting them under his eyes, and Wolfwood fought the urge to close them against the soothing feeling. Vash wanted to show him something.
“Breathe with me,” Vash said. Demanded, really. It was as firm as he usually got–a solid request that Wolfwood wouldn’t dream of denying simply because Vash demanded so little of him.
His chest hurt when he considered how little Vash asked and how little he could give still.
But Wolfwood followed Vash’s lead. Inhaled and exhaled in time with him, chest burning until a sob finally bubbled out of his lips. Vash gently coaxed him forward, letting their foreheads gently knock together, and Wolfwood fought so hard to simply keep breathing with him.
To simply be there with him in the moment. His monster who would never let anyone hurt him.
The tears didn’t wain, however. If anything, the act of breathing with Vash and leaning close to him, watching those kind eyes watch him, seemed to just make them fall even more. But Wolfwood had long accepted that once he hadn’t been able to stop them he would simply be crying himself to sleep tonight.
Crying himself to sleep with Vash there was new, however.
And so was this feeling. The feeling of release as he breathed with Vash. Felt him start to slowly run his hands up and down his back, soothing. Watched those eyes–too kind to look at him like that–go soft and a little watery as Wolfwood leaned into him and dripped tears onto his shirt.
“You’re an ugly crier, Wolfwood,” he said, soft and teasing.
Wolfwood made a little half-laugh of a noise, sniffling, and bonked his forehead into Vash's, a little rougher than the first time. Vash laughed too. Then he slowly tilted his face until he could press his lips to Wolfwood’s, hands returning to cup his face as Wolfwood whimpered softly into his mouth, tears still rolling down his cheeks.
His face was utterly soggy, streaked with tears and snot. But Vash kissed him like he always did. That gentle way he loved to do things. That tenderness Wolfwood simply couldn’t ever believe he deserved.
“Fuckin’ nasty bastard,” he hiccuped when they parted, reaching up to wipe a thin string of spit and snot from between their mouths.
Vash laughed and leaned in again, pressing another hasty kiss against his mouth. Chasing after him in a brief, silly little moment as Wolfwood huffed at him. When he finally relented, he just bumped his nose against Wolfwood’s.
“Can’t help it with you,” he replied, dripping with fondness. “You were gross first.”
Wolfwood choked on a laugh, sob bubbling up in spite of himself, and leaned in to rest his forehead against Vash’s shoulder. “Can’t help it,” he said. Then, quieter, “You don’t have to stay.”
“Want to,” Vash countered gently. “Wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be.”
And after a moment to consider this, Wolfwood allowed himself to relax into the idea. Vash could have left. Instead, he asked if he wanted him to stay. And here Vash was, still here with him.
“Gonna keep crying,” he remarked, watching tears drip off his chin and onto Vash’s shirt.
Vash hummed, nodding. “That’s fine,” he said quietly. “Just keep breathing too.”
Pointedly, Wolfwood sucked in a deep breath before exhaling slowly. Repeated this again and again until he felt himself slowly relaxing further into Vash’s arms. Vash hummed, arms tightening around him, and he felt utter peace. Relief.
Wolfwood didn’t remember when sleep came. Only when he woke, cheek pressed to Vash’s chest. The shirt between his skin and Vash’s was damp but body warmed. Not cool like his pillows got when he cried in his sleep on them.
And Vash was still holding him. He would until Wolfwood finally slowly sat up, stretching and popping his back and groaning like an old man.
Neither of them spoke of it again. But when Wolfwood stole a glance back at him as he was getting ready for the day, he found Vash staring at him. Something painfully soft was written across his face the whole time.
Something vulnerable. A raw, exposed nerve. Just like how Wolfwood felt.